


When the Universe Reels [Fic & Art]

by MaesterChill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)
Genre: A Date, A bag of boiled sweets, A trolley ride, But where is Harry?, Draco is fine, Fanart, Just Fine, M/M, Not stressing, Not upset, Post-Hogwarts, Well perhaps a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/pseuds/MaesterChill
Summary: After a week of convincing himself it wasn’t really adate—they were only taking a trolley ride together for Merlin’s sake—the agreed hour arrived and Draco waited anxiously at the trolley station.But where on earth was Potter?





	When the Universe Reels [Fic & Art]

**Author's Note:**

> This art and fic is a collab, and was inspired by the trolley scene from the movie Meet Me In St Louis (1944), a scene famous for [The Trolley Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OL3EIVwZ60w)  
> (C’mon, you know it: _Clang, clang, clang, went the trolley…_ ) 
> 
> Artist: Maesterchill  
> Author: anonymous 
> 
> Many thanks to the mods LLAP115 and Erin_Riwen for creating and running this brilliant fest.  
> Thanks and hugs need to go to icarusinflight for superb help with the fic, and to LLAP115 for advice and squee on the art.

"Come on, Draco, he's obviously not coming. This _trolley thing_ will leave without you if you don't get on now!" Pansy hung languidly from the wrought iron stairs at the rear of the trolley, her light dress coat catching and billowing in the summer breeze.

"He'll be here," Draco huffed, "he said he would." He fought hard to keep the disappointed tone from his voice.

Pansy sighed quietly looking toward the sky. "I'm going back upstairs. Luna should have seats for the four of us."

As her footfalls faded into the general din and haze surrounding the platform, he appreciated that she didn't continue to argue that meeting Potter in St Louis the week before was anything other than _chance_.

Draco stood on tiptoes peering down the platform, surveying the crowd for the instantly recognisable mess that was Potter's hair.

"All aboard!" came a loud voice from behind him. He turned to the source of the noise and the trolleybus conductor afforded him a thin-lipped smile.

"How much longer... until we depart?" Draco enquired, cursing himself inwardly for sounding so nervous, "Only, I'm waiting—"

"Oh that's too bad!" the conductor bustled, cutting him off. "Time, tide and trolley wait for no man. Now take your seat, young man." Draco bristled at being called that—he was twenty-six, for Merlin’s sake—but allowed himself to be ushered toward the trolley by the conductor.

His shoulders slumped as he climbed aboard. He felt rather stupid actually; like the first time he made Potter an offer of friendship only to be spurned. Somehow, this time it was worse. Worse than being on the Hogwarts Express and having his hand rejected in front of Weasley. This time, Potter had first _feigned_ acceptance—they just _happened_ to be heading to the same place anyway—and hadn’t even bothered to show up!

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did, though there had been something so genuine, so _earnest_ , in Potter's manner when he'd approached them at the bar the week before. Pansy had repeatedly dismissed his excitement, saying that Potter only made the effort because she was dating Luna—who had a knack of knowing when she was being ignored—meaning Potter _had_ to come and say hello once he'd seen Luna. _Obviously._

Draco might have believed her, if not for the fact that every time he replayed the moment in his mind, Potter seemed more and more surprised to see Luna there than either Pansy or himself. It was almost as though he hadn't noticed them until he got to the booth.

Not to mention that Potter had spoken to _him_ first. Draco had argued that, as per their upbringing, it's ordinarily _polite_ to first address one's friends, then their partners, then acquaintances, and finally, old school-yard nemeses.

Pansy had wasted no time in pointing out that Potter was neither pureblooded nor properly educated in general social customs—Wizarding or otherwise—and would sooner talk to a crup than to its owner if that's what took his fancy. Which really only backed up his point, although, frustratingly, Pansy didn't seem to see it that way.

They had bickered about it on and off for the whole week leading up to this blasted trolley outing. Curse the modern-day revival of the arsing _Wizarding World's Fair_. Just because the Muggles chose to keep up the notion that showboating and sharing technology and ideas among nations was a worthwhile endeavour, didn't mean Wizards had to.

 _'Except perhaps we should have... perhaps if we had only...'_ he forced the thought down, knowing that the past—his past—couldn't be changed. It wouldn’t do to dwell on that now.

He paused to cast one last hopeful glance back down the platform as the bell clanged loudly and the trolley pulled away, but there was no sign of Potter.

 _'Yes, curse the stupid World's Fair_ ', he thought.  "And curse Harry Potter as well, for good measure," he muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs.

He reached the upper deck of the trolley, pausing again briefly as the stairs curled around to look back toward the station. The platform was still empty, and the trolley was steadily gaining speed.

Draco settled into the seat his friends had saved him, purposefully avoiding their eyes on him. He opened the bag of sweets that Luna had bought them for the journey, vainly trying _not_ to think about the obvious reason for Potter not showing up. Shaking his head to clear it, Draco jostled the bag for the fourth or fifth time, peering inside, dissatisfied with the selection of colourful boiled sweets, though he couldn't say why.

"No matter how much you shake it," Luna began, "Harry won't appear in the bottom of that bag."

Irritation reaching a momentary peak, Draco ignored Luna's remark and crumpled the bag, pitching it off the side of the trolley into the street.

"That make you feel better?" Pansy enquired, smirking slightly at him.

Before Draco had a chance to answer her, loud clamorous yelling erupted on the lower deck of the trolley. Several people around them got up and rushed toward the back of the trolley to investigate the commotion.

Draco looked at Pansy and shrugged; he rose dully from his seat and made his way to the back of the trolley. He was unable to see anything past the ridiculous hats and parasols of other passengers. Salazar, it seemed he was the only person _not_ wearing a sodding hat, but then he reminded himself that was because he’d spent so much effort styling his hair into an elaborate pompadour. ' _Waste of bloody time,_ ' he thought. After a futile moment or two of craning his neck he retreated with a sigh. He re-took his seat, chin so low it rested upon his bow tie, heart heavy with the weight of disappointment.

“I think these belong to you,” a voice said. “I seem to remember they’re your favourite.”

Nerves zinged through Draco’s body as he leapt to his feet. _Potter!_ Potter in a light brown bowler, which made his mop look halfway decent, and green bow tie, green as his eyes which were right now gleaming with both contrition and something bordering on amusement. He really should chastise the git for being late, but he found to his dismay that he’d quite forgotten how to speak.

Potter tipped his hat and smiled at him then, full beam, and Draco was forced to grab onto his sleeve as the trolley juddered. They bumped clumsily together as the trolley rumbled down the tracks, and Potter’s hand came to rest against Draco's back, pulling him in close and steadying him with his body. Heart thumping, Draco looked into endlessly green eyes and somehow found the wherewithal to make space for him so that they could sit down.

Draco had been given many second chances in the last nine years. Could the universe finally be giving him a second chance with Potter?

There was so much to talk through. But not now. For now, it was grand just to sit, Potter’s hand holding his, until the end of the line.

 

 


End file.
